


All My Tears Have Been Used Up

by JoyHale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Declarations Of Love, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Sam in Hell, Sibling Incest, Suicidal Thoughts, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoyHale/pseuds/JoyHale
Summary: Sam can't breathe. He can't breathe, he is chocking, he is drowning and he is gonna die. And he knows it.In other words, Sam starts to lose his mind.





	All My Tears Have Been Used Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Yes, it's me. I'm back. If you were wondering, no, I'm not lying dead somewhere in a trashcan. I'm sorry for not updating any of my WIPs, and I'll make sure to do that, but the last few months were really tough for me and I didn't have any energy to write, and I didn't want to anyway. 
> 
> I think I owe you an explanation, so: First of all, my granny died. She was an extremely important person in my life and her death was... Nevermind. I'm working on that. And second, I came out as a bisexual to my best friend and family. I was so nervous about this, and especially my parents struggled with it for a while, but now it's kinda ok I guess. (And please, just don't say bisexuality is not a thing because it is.)
> 
> Nevermind. Just wanted to say why I wasn't active. I'm gonna make it up to you, promise. Now, enjoy the fic. It's dark, and twisted, and it's exactly how I felt.

Sam can't breathe. He can't breathe, he is chocking, he is drowning and he is gonna die. And he knows it. 

As Sam gasps desperately for oxygen, stumbling forward and nearly stumbling over, the feeling in him, that was gathering up in him for weeks, the dark, ill, overwhelming feeling is drowning him. Sam tries to breathe, but he just can't. His vision is getting blurry and it's starting to get black at the edges. 

Sam takes one shaky, unstable step forward and leans against a wall, desperately trying to find something to hold on, to clutch onto, something firm that would remind him what's real and what's not. He can tell that he isn't really drowning, that the water washing over his feets isn't real, but at the same time it's very, very real.

It's never been never this bad.

Sam tries to keep his mind focus, but it's so damn hard, he can't breathe and the walls are clutching him, he feels so small and fragile; he wonders that if he would cut himself if he would fizzle out like a balloon that has no air. The water is now past his shins.

Sam closes his eyes and he can very clearly see Lucifer, smiling all cruelly, teasingly, mocking him. Always mocking him, never letting him get some sleep. Sam hates Lucifer, he hates him so much and the hate helps; in the Cage, the only thing that kept him sane was his hate - and the hope that maybe someday he'll see Dean again; his green eyes and beautiful smile. 

Sam flinches and cuddles on himself a little as the memories of what Michael and Lucifer did to him in the Cage starts flowing through his mind. He remembers the pain, the unbearable pain, the burning, the cutting, the breaking, the blood dripping from his veins and their laughter, so cruel and horrible. Lucifer or Michael wearing Jess, Mom, Dad, _Dean_ while torturing him, saying awful things about him, how they never loved him, because he is useless, useless broken existence and no one could ever want him, never. 

He remembers his throat bleeding from screaming, his fingernails tugged off, his bones being broken and heart being shattered into millions of pieces that were cutting him from the inside; now he can feel blood dripping from his fingertips, making smacking, morbid sounds as it hits the surface of the water surrounding him. It sounds incredibly loud in the silent room.

Sam's knees give up and he slides down the wall, right to the water. His clothes are soaked wet and they're heavier and heavier each moment, dragging him down. Sam gasp in one shaky breath, but he doesn't have the energy to get away, to escape the dark depths of the water.

Sam was never afraid of water, or drowning; now he is, all thanks to Lucifer. While Michael was rough and went straight to the thing and enjoyed such as things as cutting Sam, burning him or breaking his bones, Lucifer was way more cruel, tactical and mischievous. He wanted to make Sam not only physical damage but also emotional and psychical one. He wanted Sam to really suffer, to be a scared and sobbing mess.

Lucifer's favorite thing to do was to drown Sam, again and again, and again. Sam would be in the water, in the dark, he couldn't see, couldn't breathe and that scared the shit out of him. Just when he was about to pass out or really drown, Lucifer would pull him up, letting him take a few shaky, desperate, broken breaths before doing it all over again. It was maybe worse than every incredibly painful torture Lucifer could come up with. 

Sam was always scared of darkness, ever since he found out that monsters, all his childhood fears, were true, that existed and ever since he was afraid what could jump him in the dark. But of course he could never say that out loud; Dad and Dean would call him a scared chick; a weak, pathetic excuse for a hunter, for a man. 

Sam opens his eyes and right there in front of him is laying this glass shard, just... laying there. He knows exactly what it is for, what game is his mind playing with him. He knew he could end all this suffering, all this pain, and living as a shadow of his former self, with this shard. If he would just stretch his hand out and grab the shard... Sam shook his head no matter how much it hurts, his eyes must be so wide it has to be almost comical, it terrifies him that he thought about it for even a second. He can't do it; it would... it would kill Dean. 

Sam could feel the water surface is still rising, soon hitting his shoulders. It terrifies him, he doesn't wanna drown, he doesn't, so he dugs his fingers into the big, ugly scar on his palm, in a lost try to keep his sanity.

But, no matter how hard or deep is he pressing, he doesn't feel a damn thing. He still feels like he is chocking, he still feels like his throat is bleeding, filled up with fire, but that's all. No pain from the scar, nothing.

It terrifies him more than anything.

As Sam dares to open his eyes, he sees ruby red blood all over his palm. It looks kinda nice, the redness against his pale palm, but he can't think about that now, because the scar was his surety, always reminding him that whatever hallucination he has been having aren't real, that they're just hallucination, a creation of his twisted, fucked-up mind. It was his lifeline. And now he lost hold of it, it's not working, and he will drown without his lifeline. 

Sam sobs and stops digging his fingers into the wound, letting his arms fall and the blood is coloring the water to crimson red. Sam opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out, or maybe it does but he can't hear it through the sound of water and the blood rushing in his ears.

Sam just wants it to over.

He wants to feel nothing.

He wants to feel something.

He wants to feel safe in Dean's arms once again.

Dean.  _Dean_. DEAN.

"DEAN!" Sam screams and doesn't care that his throat is bleeding and hurting and on fire, he doesn't care at all, he just screams his big brother's name, pleading him to come, to rescue him, to protect him, to save him, because Sam is drowning and he is gonna die and he knows it.

He wants Dean, more than anything, because Dean is the one good thing in his life, the only sunray in the darkness, the reasons why Sam gets up from bed every morning, the reason why is he keeping his sanity, why is he still breathing. If it wasn't for Dean, Sam would have ended this torture long ago - maybe with a knife, a bullet, a rope. Dean is the good and Sam desperately hold on that.

Then there is shouting and yelling and screaming, and Sam cuddles on himself terrified what's coming to get him if it's Lucifer or Michael or somebody entirely different. Someone is clutching on his shoulder and Sam opens his eyes just a little, just a little peek he tells himself, and he whimpers at what is he seeing - Lucifer smiling at him, cruelly. Sam blinks and then there is Ruby with demon eyes in front of him, then it's Mom and looks just like when she died; Sam blinks again and there is Dad with Azazel's eyes, smiling with blood on his lips; Jess with black holes where her eyes are supposed to be; and Dean, all covered in blood and smiling like a predator, black eyes shining.

Sam screams and flinches away, and the hand on his shoulder follows him and then he feels pain and he is so surprised he opens his eyes and see a hand firmly pressing into the scar on his palm, blood pouring out and finally, finally the sound of Dean's panicked, horrified voice made his way through to Sam's ears.

"Sammy, c'mon, stay with me, Sammy, please, c'mon, baby brother, it's not real, it's not real..." Dean presses harder and tries to make eye-contact with Sam. "Okay, this is real, do you feel it, baby? C'mon, Sammy, you're strong, I know you're strong, it's not real, it's not happening..."

Sam just can't look Dean in the eye and see all the sadness and panic and guilt in there, 'cause Dean is always feeling guilty when Sam breaks down, he thinks it's somehow his fault, that he wasn't strong enough to protect Sam from all the evil in the world. 

This particular thought, Dean's irrational guilt, and the press of Dean's fingers make Sam take a huge, shaky breath because he is not drowning and he is not gonna die and he knows it.

Sam takes a few more breaths, finally letting the oxygen to his lungs, which feels sore, but he doesn't care; all he wants to do is hide into Dean's arms and stay there forever.

"D-dean," Sam chokes on the name, it sounded more like a choked sob than anything else, but Dean just pulls him into a tight hug, hugging him like his life is depending on it but also caressing Sam like something fragile, that could break once he would squeeze too hard - what might be true.

"Sammy," Dean murmurs as he strokes his hair, letting Sam bury his head in Dean's chest as he cries, sobs shaking with his body violently. 

"I'm sorry," Sam chokes out, his throat still feeling sore even though it was mostly hallucination. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart," Dean says, with a hint of sharp edge in his voice, 'cause even though Dean is blaming himself all the time, he doesn't want Sam to blain himself for anything. 

They just lie there, Sam slowly, slowly calming down and coming to senses. Dean is still gently stroking Sam's hair and his back, whispering calming things that don't really make sense to Sam but that's all right, because he doesn't need to understand; it's just the tone of Dean's voice, so soft and calm, although Sam knows there are deep panic and fear buried under it.

Eventually, Dean lifts Sam's injured hand and says softly, "How about we patch this up?" 

Sam just nods, too numb to say anything, his mind trying to wrap around the fact he is alive, that it all was just a hallucination. He doesn't understand why he felt the pain when Dean pressed on his scar, but he doesn't have any energy left to spare to think about it, so he just ascribes it to the fact that it's Dean, and Dean always saves him, no matter what. Maybe Dean had the faith that Sam was missing. 

Dean gently leads him to his room and guides Sam to the bed, grabbing the first aid kit on the way there. Dean cleans his wound gently and silently, focusing on his work and not saying anything. Sam prevents himself from hissing when the wound connects with alcohol, not wanting to stress Dean more than he already is. He can't imagine the burden Dean is carrying, having to watch him break down again and again. Sam feels so pathetic he want's to cry, but all his tears have been used up. 

As Dean bandages his palm yet again, Sam wonders how much time it'll take before his fucked-up mind, the hallucinations will get him again. He remembers the glass shard, the easy way out; just do it and never suffer again.

Sam's eyes dart to Dean, he looks at his emerald eyes now focused on his palm, his freckles, his soft hair, his beautiful soul and his bleeding heart - bleeding because of Sam. Sam could feel it; his was bleeding just as much. Sam shakes his head, no, he couldn't leave Dean, he couldn't do this to him.

Dean is finished with his hand and Sam lets it fall into his lap. Dean clears the equipment away and just sits there, looking somewhat older and on the edge, like he wants to hug Sam but if worried Sam will fall into pieces if he does. Sam doesn't know what to say; the only thing he knows is that he wants to feel safe, secure and happy, and the only place he can find that is in Dean's arms. 

Sam leans closer to Dean and lets himself fall at him, hugging him tight and hiding his face in Dean's chest. Sam could tell Dean is surprised, tensing a little, then relaxing and hugging Sam just as tightly back. Dean leans down to whisper ensuring things in Sam's ear and Sam can't help it and starts crying again. Why can't they have a normal life? Why does it have to be this way? Can't they just be... happy for a while?

Eventually, Dean slowly pulls him closer and lies down, dragging Sam down with him. Sam lies at top of Dean, having enough sense left in him to lift up a little not to crush Dean. He is sure he has to look ugly - pale, with puffy red eyes, and tears and snot all over his face, but Dean doesn't look like he cares, no, he looks at Sam with so much worry and love in his eyes it's making Sam cry even more.

Dean gently rolls them over so now they're lying face to face and he pulls Sam closer, petting his hair. Sam hides his head under Dean's chin and takes a deep breath of the earthy scent of his brother. "It's okay," Dean whispers, and Sam has somewhat hard time believing that. 

Sam doesn't know how exactly it happened, everything is blurry, but they end up kissing. The soft, gently kiss quickly turns into something messier, Sam desperate for the feel of it, for the _this is real, this is happening_ , Dean trying to ensure himself that Sam is here with him, and mostly okay - at least from the outside. They make out as teenagers, Dean sneaking his tongue into Sam's mouth. 

Sam whimpers and pulls away, desperate for more, needing more. "Dean," Sam whines and Dean knows exactly what he wants, what he needs, so it goes pretty straight after that. They rip their clothes off, Dean crushing their mouths once they're completely naked, it almost hurts but that's exactly what Sam needs to keep sane. 

Dean looks around once he pulls away for oxygen, frowning and searching the dryers in both nightstands before sighing, "Looks like we're out of lube." 

Sam barks out a laugh because it just sounds so comical in this situation and it feels weird, when was the last time he laughed? Sam doesn't remember. 

Sam stops laughing and shakes his head, pulling Dean down again. "S'okay," he mumbles. "Never mind." Sam needs pain, he needs the pain to know this is real. He wants to kiss Dean again, but Dean refuses, shaking his head while keeping his eyes locked on Sam's.

"No," he says slowly, putting emphasis on every word like he really wants Sam to understand. "No, I'm not going to hurt you." 

Sam blinks, then Dean is out of his line of sight and then - Sam squeaks, Dean's tongue is darting around his asshole, his breath hot on Sam's thighs, giving Sam goosebumps. Sam was half-hard before but this makes him hard immediately, and Sam can only moan as Dean laps at his pucker. 

When Dean is done, he puls away with dark eyes and slowly licks his lips and Sam thinks he can come from this alone. 

" _Sammy_ ," Dean breathes out and Sam is finally feeling him inside, filling him up. Sam tries so hard to lost himself in the pleasure, in Dean's breathy moans and whispered words, but he can't completely. The darkness is still waiting at the edge of his mind, poking and not letting him forget any of the horrors he's been through. 

So Sam just melts into Dean completely, all he can hear are moans and keens and broken promises, and just enjoys the surety of the fact that this is real, Dean is real, they are real and no one can take that away from him. No matter how many horrible nightmares he will have, how many breakdowns he will endure, how many sounds will scare him and for how long he could stay sane - no one can take this moment with Dean from him. The moment when Dean whispers 'I love you' and comes, will always be in Sam's memory and that's something even Lucifer can't take away.

"Dean?" Sam mumbles and Dean looks up at him from Sam's chest where he was resting his head. He looks fragile like that; his eyes full of worry and love, anger and sadness, protectiveness and fear. There are so many things Sam could say in this moment.

_I need help._

_I don't know how long I can take it._

_It'll happen again._

_Please._

_Dean._

_Spare me this suffer._

But Sam can't, he doesn't want Dean to feel more awful than he does. 

So he says: "Love you." 

It's true after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story <3 Any thoughts? ;)


End file.
